She Called Herself Helen
by sarahandmarquis
Summary: This is the story of a Hellion who made death itself afraid to take her back. One-shot. Complete.


Author's Note:

Dear Readers,

This is my first venture into Darkest Dungeon fanfic writing! This is a one-shot about one of my favorite characters from my current save file. The ending of this actually just happened last night and I wanted to write about it. Please enjoy!

sarahandamarquis

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She called herself Helen.

No more name, no given history. Nothing to tell us where she came from or who she had been before she stepped off the stagecoach.

We didn't question her; no one wanted to after one look in her eyes. A certain vein of madness ran there, dark and dangerous. The hamlet had their own share of mad folk, above and below so we were used to oddities.

But, she was different. A different kind of madness that ran deeper and thicker than we had ever seen before.

She was a Hellion from far away. We never learned why she came to the Hamlet, but our teams were grateful she had.

A fight of fighters, she slaughtered her way through the dungeons, taking the stress given her and turning it back on her enemies. We trained her and gave her better equipment as she proved herself.

Then, one day, a team of three came back, bearing a body and trinkets. Helen had died and they'd been forced to abandon the dungeon. We buried her with the same quiet grief we buried all our dead and moved on with our lives, content to remember her memory as a mad Hellion who had served us well.

Death didn't keep her for long.

We were no strangers to people returning from the grave, but when we saw Helen walking down the path from the graveyard, the darkness in her eyes more wicked than ever, we shuddered.

She hadn't changed in any dramatic way. If anything, she was just quieter. She fought no less fiercely; she defended her team no less valiantly. But her eyes were different. A power, a dark power fueled her. Something she gave life within her and let consume her.

It took the Brigand Sixteen Pounder to flatten her once more.

The team retreated and managed to bring her body back. We buried her again, wondering in the back of our mind if she'd remain dead this time.

In our defense, she stayed dead longer.

Yet, we trembled and retreated when the grim Hellion strode from the graveyard once more.

We didn't send her out on any missions for several weeks, curious to see how much she'd changed since her second visit to Death's home. She was much like she had always been, but stronger. Soon enough, we needed her again.

Her next mission was the Darkest Dungeon itself. She hadn't spoken since her last resurrection, and we dared not ask her what death was like.

Reynauld insisted upon going. To protect him we sent D'Artagnan, our best Jester, and Merilyn, our best Vestal. Helen didn't speak, just took the Flesh's heart with her and left.

Only Helen returned.

We watched in growing horror as the blood-soaked Hellion strode back into the Hamlet. She reeked of guts and holy water. She was a hairs breadth away from death. Her eyes said she'd seen death's door too many times. The last few straps of the Shieldbreaker's scales hung off her shoulders. Six trinkets were stuffed in her bag and a victorious. A maddening grin was plastered on her face.

They had all died to the Shuffling Horror, she recounted quietly. The jester first, may he rest in peace, and then that dear healer girl who tired her hardest. She said she'd would have killed Reynauld herself if a heart attack hadn't taken him first. The mad sparkle danced in her eyes when she informed us she'd kill the monster herself and the priest that followed him.

We understood why Death had sent her back twice. We understood why it refrained from taking her in the Darkest Dungeon. We now feared her as much as it did.

When the trinkets had been returned to the chest for distribution to other heroes, she retreated to the bar and drank it dry.

From that day on, we tiptoed around our Hellion. Helen Iron Swan we began to call her out of respect and fear. Helen Iron Swan – the only hero in our Hamlet to walk into the Darkest Dungeon and walk out.


End file.
